


Another Life Away

by Claranon



Series: Seeking Solid Ground [2]
Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: 'Hey you know what would make this ten times worse?', (sort of), Angst, Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Flashbacks, It's like I looked at Hendrik's Act 1 conflict one day and thought:, The Suffer Fic™
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 00:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21310975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claranon/pseuds/Claranon
Summary: It wasn’t that Jade didn’tbelievein love, exactly. She just didn’t think it had much to do with her personally.She was wrong.
Relationships: Graig | Hendrik/Marutina | Jade (Dragon Quest XI), Jade/Hendrik
Series: Seeking Solid Ground [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537429
Comments: 12
Kudos: 41





	Another Life Away

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this continuation bouncing around in my head for the better part of a year now and it finally felt like the time to write it. This isn’t necessarily the end of the story, but like [What’s Left Undone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17378018), I think I leave off at a fitting place. Hope you enjoy! (said the author with a foreboding chuckle)
> 
> Title taken from [Knots by Anna Nalick](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i8XBw5NSUdE), which felt appropriate.

It wasn’t that Jade didn’t _believe_ in love, exactly.

Not believing in love would be like not believing that the sun rose in the east or that trees turned to dusky gold in the fall. The evidence of love was everywhere: sweethearts lingering on doorsteps in the morning, mothers tenderly kissing playground scrapes, friends laughing over secret jokes.

_Rab gently pulling the blanket more snugly around her as she lay before the fire, its flickering heat drying the wet tracks on her cheeks._

No, Jade definitely believed in love—she just didn’t believe that it had much to do with her _personally_. She’d seldom dwelt on it during those long years of wandering, and even more seldom had some form of it escaped from her lips. Rab had never been the effusive sort and the little princess had followed his lead, instead pouring everything she had into the burning desire to grow faster, _stronger_, a warrior worthy of the vengeance she so desperately sought.

Which was not to say that her childhood had been _all_ stern resolve and relentless training. The tempest of teenage hormones and moodiness had struck Jade full force, and Rab still couldn’t speak of those years without suppressing a shudder. She might almost have pitied him the first time he’d caught her behind the Hotto forge trading giggling kisses with the blacksmith’s apprentice—if a fifteen-year-old were even _capable_ of pity, which was in most cases a firm negative.

_“Jade,” he said to her afterward at the campsite, looking like a man grimly marching toward a fate he’d only expected to face _once_ in his life. “I understand that ye’re of an age now, to be feeling, er, feeling certain...well, the thing of it is, as ye get older, ye see, it’s important to understand the changes ye’re going through, and how...how that might...”_

_He paused and grabbed the cap off his head, dusting it distractedly. “Crivens, ye’d think this’d get _easier_ as I get aulder...”_

_“I already know about all that, Rab,” she told him with a roll of her eyes. It sometimes seemed that her gaze practically _lived_ skyward with how often the old man provoked her. “Lady Eleanor explained it to me once.”_

_“Oh, thank the heavens.” Rab sagged with relief in his seat and up Jade’s eyes flew again. But then he straightened and turned back to her._

_“I know that it hasnae been easy, lass, this road we’ve travelled together,” he said seriously. “Ye’ve not been able to have the friends—the _life_—that ye deserve, and I’d never begrudge ye the little happiness ye can find, here and there. I just...dinnae want ye to get hurt, is all.”_

_Jade’s gaze dropped from his. “I won’t,” she replied, staring into the flames of their campfire. “It doesn’t mean anything, Rab. It never will.”_

_She couldn’t see his face, but his voice was doubtful. “Are ye sure, lass?”_

_“I am.” And she had meant it, with all the confidence of a fifteen-year-old who believed that her world was exactly as it always would be._

Surprisingly, Jade had by and large been correct about that. There had been more boys in more towns over those stormy few years, but she’d never been tempted to linger for them and had never looked back as she left. Soon enough the fires of teenaged turmoil had cooled and her bond with (an admittedly _very_ relieved) Rab had strengthened again. She’d rededicated herself to their quest and focused on her training, knowing that foot and fist would always see her through whatever challenges they faced.

Love, like the moon in the sky and the tides in the sea, didn’t _need_ Jade’s belief to carry on as it did. She’d already seen the proof of that, hadn’t she, when everything she’d ever known had been wrenched away and left her lost and broken on a muddy riverbank. Love had saved her then—a father’s love for his daughter, who had loved her in turn—and sustained her through sixteen years; but still it felt such an abstract thing, a memory more than a feeling she had any ability to claim.

It had only taken one night to tilt the world on its axis and prove once again just how little she understood of it. And that time, for a single moment, she _did_ look back.

* * *

Jade supposed it was fitting that the next time they spoke—_really_ spoke, just the two of them, the rest of the world fading into vagueness around them—was in a forest.

She shivered as she trekked through the Drasilian woods on silent feet, the canopy above only partly shielding her from the rain. It didn’t help that she was still drenched from the gushing river; she’d had time only to start a fire with the meager supplies within the cabin before setting out to find more fuel. Her companion had still been sleeping when she’d left and the paleness of his face worried her. She could almost have been amused at how easy it was to slip into the protective role of a ‘big sister’, like she’d been unconsciously practicing for it all along.

Her path crossed a tall cluster of purple flowers and she paused, tilting her head as she looked at them.

_“And what are these ones called, Lady Eleanor?” the small girl asked, her basket threatening to spill its contents with her excited bouncing._

_“The purple flowers?” Lady Eleanor smiled, as she almost always did when she spoke. “Those are gladiolus, dear. Though King Irwin always calls them ‘sword lilies’ instead.” Her eyes went a bit distant and her smile grew even lovelier, as if she were remembering some delightful secret._

_“Well, I think they’re beautiful,” Jade declared. “I’m going to pick a whole bunch and make a bouquet for the baby!”_

_“I’m sure he’ll appreciate it, dear,” the queen assured her. A hand unconsciously went to the large bump under her dress. “Or she will, I suppose!”_

_Jade shook her head with stubborn insistence. “No, it’s _definitely_ a he, I just know it. Oh, I can’t wait to meet my little brother!”_

_“Soon enough, love, soon enough.” Lady Eleanor affectionately tucked the little princess’s hair behind her ear and smiled again. “Now why don’t we finish up here and head back to the castle for lunch?”_

The late queen was always happy in Jade’s memories, and she had clung to that joy fiercely over the years. She wondered if her son shared that same sweet smile with just a hint of bashfulness in the eyes above it. That she soon would have the opportunity to find out filled Jade’s heart near to overflowing.

It was almost—_almost_—enough to eclipse the knot that lay heavy as a stone within her stomach.

She combed the forest carefully, checking under bushes and fallen trees for the dry wood she sought. Soon she carried a respectable pile in her arms and decided it was probably time to head back to the cabin and warm herself. The air was silent around her as she retraced her steps, the monsters evidently disliking the rain as much as she did. Still she remained ready to drop her bundle at a moment’s notice to defend herself.

Despite her vigilance borne from years of hard training, she didn’t notice the other presence until she was within twenty feet of it. Her senses suddenly flared and she caught sight of a tall figure through the misty rain, sitting astride a dark horse. Rider and mount alike were motionless as they watched her.

For one, wild moment Jade had a vision of the terrible monsters that had chased her along the road that awful night; but then she realized the truth of the other person’s identity and almost _wished_ it had been them instead. A dull clattering echoed throughout the grove as the wood tumbled from her arms and she ducked into a defensive stance. She stared fiercely, unwilling even to blink as she waited to see what he would do.

The man remained upon his horse a few seconds longer before he swung one armoured leg over the saddle and dropped to the mossy ground with a clank. He walked slowly toward her and soon she could make out the features of his face through the drizzly air. When he had reached a distance of about ten feet, he halted. His sword remained in its scabbard on his back and his gloved hands hung limply at his sides.

“Princess Jade.” It was not a question, but somehow contained a multitude of them. His voice was deep and his eyes unfathomable.

“Sir Hendrik,” she replied, still tensed into fighting position. He did not have an air of threat about him, but after the scene on the cliff she refused to let her guard down. Even so, she was taken by surprise when he spoke next.

“I...must admit my shock at seeing you alive and well, Princess,” Hendrik said in a restrained tone. She could only guess—but not know—what lay behind it. “You cannot imagine how much...that pleases me.”

Jade watched as his throat bobbed into a swallow, his gaze never leaving hers.

“But I see also that I was right,” he added more strongly. He made a gesture at the pile of wood scattered at her feet. “I had suspected it would take more than a mere fall to put paid to the Darkspawn.”

His eyes narrowed and his tone turned cold. “Where is he, Princess? I have been tasked by your father himself to end the threat that the Child of Darkness inflicts upon this world, and I _will _see that through!”

“You’ve got it all wrong!” Despite the instincts blaring alarm bells at her, Jade straightened, one hand going up to her chest. “Look, I know how you feel about duty, Hendrik—how could I forget? But you don’t understand how important this is! Please—you have to let us go!”

He let out a contemptuous snort and the harshness of it twisted her stomach. “You would ask a sworn knight of Heliodor to disobey the orders of his king? You have been away from home too long, Princess!”

The spark of hope she’d clung to, that he might be reasoned with—might be willing to _listen _to her—withered and died within her breast. Her gaze and hand both dropped. “Not long enough for the years to have changed you. Still loyal to a fault.” She took in a deep breath. “I wish it didn't have to come to this...”

Her hand clenched into a fist and the air went out of her. “But it has!”

His sword whistled out of its sheath in time to block her first kick. She gritted her teeth and tried again, raining blows upon him so quickly her foot seemed to blur in the misty air. He parried each of them with ease and met her last with a great push of the blade, propelling her several feet backwards. Jade paused a moment to catch her breath and met his glaring eyes with her own.

“Stand down, Princess Jade!” Hendrik snapped, grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. “You shall not prevail!”

“Oh, please!” she scoffed. “Do you forget that I managed to save your life _twice_ over? It’ll take more than an empty threat to distract me!”

Jade steeled herself and then rushed forward, skidding across the wet ground as she slid past him. Her heels dug into the mud and she launched herself in the air. Her hair whipped around her body in an echo of her spinning kick and she let out a fierce cry as she attacked.

Instead of mere block or parry, this time he slashed into her blow. The flat of the blade slammed against her leg with the full force of his strength and she was knocked to the ground, sprawling into the dirt and rolling several times. She scrambled to right herself and looked up to see him towering over her with his sword held menacingly.

“And what will it take to convince you that I am deadly serious?” he grated out. “That if you stand on the side of the Darkspawn, I will have no choice but to destroy you?”

He raised the blade and Jade dropped her gaze. Her mind raced through her options, weighing possibilities and calculating risk in the split-second she had before his blow landed. She knew that even if she somehow evaded this, there was scant hope of winning against him; Sir Hendrik’s prowess had been lauded the world over these past sixteen years, and she had seen the proof of it with her own eyes in a snowy forest many months ago.

Even so, she would _never_ give up. Not with the fate of the world at stake, not with the young man waiting for her in a cabin just half a mile away, not with the promise she’d made to his mother to always protect him.

She would never give up; but perhaps a part of her—the tiny piece that had grieved every single day since that stolen bit of happiness in another cabin far from here—hoped that she would not _have_ to. That what they’d shared together then...had meant enough.

_The bone-chilling coldness of the storm, held off only by the searing heat their bodies made together. Safety and comfort and above all a respite, however brief, from every terrible thing they had each of them ever endured._

“Hendrik,” she said quietly, her eyelids falling closed. It was not a plea, but a reminder.

The impending blow never came. After a moment, Jade looked up to see him staring down at her with wide eyes, his chest heaving as if he struggled to draw breath. His rigid stance wavered and then fell apart completely as the sword swung down to his side and he staggered backwards.

Her fingers dug into the mossy dirt as she warily pushed herself off the ground and straightened. Hendrik’s gaze was fixed on some point further in the forest, his jaw clenched and his throat working restlessly. They stayed that way for what seemed an eternity. The air was silent and still, and Jade could hear only the harshness of his breathing and the pounding of her own heart in her ears.

Finally, he spoke.

“You knew,” Hendrik rasped, eyes going back to hers. It almost would have been easier if there were anger there, but instead she saw only pain and confusion. “The entire time...you _knew_.”

Her chin lifted. “Of course I knew.”

“But...” He seemed not even to know what to say. “But _why?_”

Jade took in a shuddering breath. _Because you saved my life. Because I saved yours. Because I was lonely. Because I missed you. Because you looked at me in a way you would _never_ have been able to if you’d known who I was. Because I wasn’t sure I’d see you again. Because I thought it was my only chance._

_Because I wanted to come home, and you were as close as I might ever get._

“I don’t know,” she told him.

The huff that came from his lips could have been a laugh if it weren’t filled with such bitterness. “You do not know?” he repeated, voice turning harsh once more. “Do you often find yourself seducing those at risk of discovering your identity, Princess Jade? Is this some tested stratagem?”

“I told you it was my first time too,” she replied coolly. “And you hardly seemed to have any objections to _being_ seduced, Sir Hendrik.”

He seemed almost to deflate as her words hit him, anger turning to agony. “Then I...I was truly the first man you ever...” His eyes squeezed shut and the fingers of his empty hand went to his other wrist, as if stroking something unseen beneath the glove.

A fresh wave of guilt coursed through her, a path she had travelled countless times since that day. From the first, she had always been a step ahead of him, had always known the truth that he had not. The deception she’d lived with for months was still but hours old for the knight, and he clearly struggled with the enormity of it all. It was a reason to feel pity, shame—a remorse over actions she didn’t know if she’d take back even if she could.

But it was also an advantage.

“Hendrik,” she said in a low voice, taking one tentative step forward. His eyes flew open and locked onto her face as she slowly approached. Her careful gaze made note of the sword dangling limp and useless in his grasp before returning to his own.

“There...isn’t a day that’s gone by since where I haven’t thought about that time,” Jade continued, knowing that truth would give her words the impact she required.

Hendrik’s chest filled with a stuttered breath. “Nor...nor has there been for me,” he said hoarsely. “Princess, I...” His face was contorted with no less distress than yearning, and he did not see the hand she slipped behind herself as she advanced.

Jade willed her racing heart to calm when she halted before him, close enough to reach out, close enough to touch and caress and give him everything he desired. So she did, her free hand resting gently on his breastplate before sliding upwards. His eyes fluttered shut and he stood frozen in place as her fingertips brushed along his jaw, his cheek, and finally settled against the back of his neck.

“Hendrik,” she breathed again, pushing up on her tiptoes while she tugged him down. He went willingly, as if helpless in that moment to deny her anything she wanted. His lips parted slightly and she could feel the puff of his breath mingling with her own.

_A kiss unlike any she’d experienced or ever might again, his mouth on hers and his tongue sliding against hers and his body pressed against hers and everything he was belonged to her, her, _her_, at least for this little while—_

When their mouths were but an inch apart, Jade paused and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her words ghosting across his stubbled skin. His eyes snapped open with sudden realization, but it was too late: her other hand jerked upwards and she shoved a Sleeping Hibiscus—kept in her skirt pocket for emergencies—directly into his face.

His sword hit the ground first with a clang, followed by a rending crash of steel armour as the knight collapsed in front of her. Jade waited a long moment, her breath held and her eyes hooded, before she was certain he was unconscious. Then she sighed and tossed the flower onto a nearby patch of moss as she turned away.

She quickly gathered the fallen firewood back together, her mind already buzzing with plans. With a man of his size, she could rely only on a few short hours before he would be awake again. There was time to return to the cabin and warm up a bit before they would need to set out and find Rab and the rest of them. The ruins of Dundrasil seemed the most likely starting point, and she hoped they’d managed to evade the soldiers and hide somewhere within them.

Pile of wood securely held in her arms once more, she was about to head back when she suddenly hesitated. A glance at Hendrik showed him to be sleeping deeply; his neck was bent at an uncomfortable angle where he lay sprawled out on the dirt.

_A pause, her hand on the doorway._

_His face was turned toward the dying fire as he slept on, his lips twitching with unheard words. The arm flung out beside him on the mattress was bent into a curved shape that she _knew_ was exactly large enough to hold her form. There was a shining chain of metal about his neck, the pendant it held hidden beneath the blankets tucked overtop his broad chest. _

_He looked...at peace. It was that more than anything that she would regret shattering when he awoke to find her vanished, never again to return._

Despite the warnings in her head of just how enormous a risk she was taking, Jade set the wood on the ground and knelt beside him. She gently pushed on his shoulder and tugged out a generous amount of cape that she wadded up into a makeshift pillow. Her hands went to his head and lifted it so she could tuck the fabric underneath and settle him more comfortably. Another hesitation, then her fingertips lightly slid through his hair, a shudder going through her at how impossibly _familiar_ it felt.

Jade pulled back before she could make an even greater mistake and picked up the firewood as she rose. She began to make her way through the trees and then noticed his horse at the edge of the copse, looking at her with mild interest. Obsidian, she thought his name was; he’d only been a colt when she’d left Heliodor, but already Hendrik had been known to dote on him as affectionately as a proud mother over her child.

“Please watch over him for me,” Jade told the black mount in a soft voice.

Obsidian nickered and tossed his mane, which she somehow knew to be an affirmation. She nodded at him—feeling only a little ridiculous as she did—and then left. As she stole back through the silent woods toward the cabin, she wondered if Hendrik would ever forgive her for this.

She wondered if she would ever forgive herself.

* * *

As it turned out, the idea of love was a whole lot easier to grasp when she was surrounded by it on all sides. It was bewildering at first, the adjustment to being part of a _group_ instead of a pair. It had just been her and Rab for so long that she’d almost forgotten what the myriad different forms of affection could look like: Erik and Veronica’s ceaseless sniping, Serena’s instant concern whenever someone so much as sneezed, Rab’s doting on his grandson, Sylvando’s...well, just about everything to do with Sylvando, honestly.

It felt good. It felt like she finally had a place to belong, with people who thought she belonged there. It felt almost like a reason to believe.

* * *

“Oh honey, I _know _I can’t be seeing your shoes up on my nice, shiny new table, can I?” Sylvando’s voice rang through the main cabin from his place at the doorway, sugary sweet in its accusation.

“What’s the big deal?” Erik shrugged. He had a mug in one hand and a foot propped up on the surface in question. “It’s a ship. Things get dirty.”

“Just because everything _you _touch comes away filthy doesn’t mean the _rest _of us should have to put up with it,” Veronica shot at him. Sylvando had somehow procured a child-sized beer mug for her, which Jade didn’t even want to know where he’d found.

During the course of Erik’s indignant sputtering, his foot managed to drop off the table and Sylvando instantly leapt on it with a scrubbing cloth. “_There_ now, darling—I may not have the biggest ship on the seas, but I sure do have the prettiest!”

“The Stallion _is _quite a bit more impressive than any of the ferries that Veronica and I travelled on,” Serena assured him earnestly. The swaying lamplight of the cabin shone on the young woman’s light hair. “We’re ever so grateful to you for letting us use it.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you, but it’s Dave you should be thanking,” the man replied as he sat down beside her. “He’s the one who keeps it in tip-top shape for me!”

Rab wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and plonked his mug on the table. “Enough of this chinwagging,” he declared. “I thought I heard rumblings of a poker game, eh?”

Erik smirked at him while Sylvando whipped out a deck of cards from his pocket with a flourish. “Are you sure you’re up for it, old man? I _did _used to be a thief, you know, and I may have a few tricks up my sleeve that you...you might...”

He trailed off as he watched Jade grab the deck and proceed to expertly shuffle the cards: sifting them rapidfire from one hand to the other, in a cascading arc above the table, fanning them together one at a time so quickly they blurred in the air.

“Well, _I _may not be up for it, laddie, but _she _certainly is,” Rab said with a stroke of his bushy mustache. Beside him, his grandson was grinning in a way Jade had never seen him do before, and she couldn’t help but share in it.

Erik’s held his hands up in defeat. “Okay—I fold.”

“Don’t be such a yellow-bellied coward!” Veronica accused. “At least give us a _chance _to take all your coin fair and square.”

“Hey, who says you’re even capable of it, pipsqueak?”

“Who’re you calling a pipsqueak, you blockhead?!”

Jade let the sounds of laughter and camaraderie wash over her through the long night, that feeling of _belonging_ warming her down to her toes. It may not have been home, but it was safe and it was happy and it was _peaceful_, which was close enough to be getting on with.

She should have known, somehow, that it couldn’t last forever.

* * *

Her gloved fingers curled over the railing of the Stallion’s deck as she stared out into the water. It was quiet and still, the eerie calmness of the Strand as unsettling as ever. She almost missed the feel of saltspray in her face; it would have been nice to have an excuse for the burning at the edges of her eyes.

“Cor!” came a startled exclamation behind her. Jade whirled to see the masked face of Dave staring at her from a few feet away. He had several coils of heavy rope in his hands that probably weighed at least half as much as she did.

“Weren’t expectin’ nobody else on the ship. They ain’t gone and left ya behind, ’ave they?” he asked with concern.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I...decided to stay on board this time.”

He seemed to consider that for a moment and then nodded. “Just as well. I could use some ’elp with the riggin’, if you’ve got a free pair o’ ’ands.”

“Of course.”

Jade followed him over to the other side of the ship—the bow? The stern? She really knew nothing about any of this—and watched as he dumped the rope on the wooden deck floor and held up one end of it. “’Ere, mate. We’re just gonna wind that right around the ’older, nice and tight-like.”

She accepted the rope and followed his directions, twisting it in circles as she wrapped it around the solid metal holder. He did the same with the other end, whistling tunelessly as he worked. When they finished with the first, he gestured toward the next rope and she grabbed it without comment.

Though it was a repetitive, mindless task, Jade didn’t much care. It was good to be doing something with her hands, good to take her mind off the circles _it_ had been running in ever since that mournful night on Saikiki Beach.

“I reckon they’ll be back soon,” Dave eventually said, enormous arms flexing as he stretched them above his head. “Do you _really_ fink there’s somefink wot can take us to the bottom of the sea?”

“I don’t know,” Jade replied briefly. “Michelle certainly seemed confident in it.”

Dave shook his head and bent down to the rope again. “A bleedin’ shame, what ’appened to that old bird. I really thought maybe she _was_ gonna get her ’appy endin’.”

“So did I.” Jade’s hands paused on the rope, twitching slightly. “Imagine spending so long waiting for your love to return, only to find out it was all just...pointless.”

Because that’s how it all too often turned out, didn’t it? The wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong _person_—that anyone ever found true happiness seemed a miracle in and of itself, let alone having it last for more than a tiny sliver of a lifetime. Better by far to expect nothing, search for nothing, and never feel that crushing weight on your heart, so heavy it was like you could scarcely breathe.

_A flicker of indecision and then she knelt down at his side, carefully placing the leather tie within his hand and closing his fingers around it. A foolish idea; a _cruel_ one. A way to ensure he’d never forget, just as _she _could never._

Jade’s eyes began to sting around the edges again and she quickly busied herself with the rope, tugging it so tightly it almost scraped her fingers raw.

“I dunno, mate,” Dave said quietly beside her. “She got all them years o’ thinkin’ and ’opin’ about the future, eh? That’s gotta count for somefink. I bet if ye’d asked ’er, she wouldn’t’a taken ’em back—not for anyfink.”

She looked up and the mask stared back at her. After a moment, her gaze dropped again. “I suppose I didn’t think of it that way,” she said finally.

“Ah, but don’t pay me no nevermind.” Dave shook his head once more and pulled the last of the rope taut against the metal holder as he tied it. “Still a bleedin’ shame, that’s wot. A bleedin’ shame.”

Jade could agree with that part, at least: shame _bled_, pulsing the life out of you until nothing was left behind.

* * *

The days marched on and their search continued and she tried to put it all out of her mind. What was the use in dwelling on those parts of her past with no bearing on her future? She’d long ago resolved to stand by her choices, if she even _could_ call this a choice to be made.

She instead put her faith in her friends—her _family_—and knew that that was enough. It had to be.

* * *

The halls of the Academy were quiet as she passed through them, the students at their afternoon lessons. The others were scattered about the building and grounds finishing up their tasks before the journey east to the Eyrie. Jade knew she should be with them, readying herself for battle, but there was something else she needed to do first.

It truly was a beautiful school, she mused, admiring eyes sweeping over the dark woods and elegant wainscotting. It might have been nice if she’d had a chance to... She shook her head, thoughts scattering into the air, and continued onward.

After stopping to ask directions from a prefect, her steps eventually brought her to a solid wooden door with ‘Directeur Adjoint’ emblazoned in gold upon it. She tapped on it lightly.

“Entrez!” called a voice from inside.

Jade opened the door and stepped into a cheery office stuffed from floor to ceiling with books and plants and strange knick-knacks she had no name for. The lowering sun shone in through a large window on the back wall, filling the room with warmth.

“Ah! Bonjour, mademoiselle!” Mme de Beauvoir said from her seat behind the desk. “Is zere some assistance I can offer you?”

“I’m not altogether sure,” Jade replied, sitting down in the overstuffed armchair the older woman waved her to. “I...actually wanted to talk to you more about your friend, you see. The owner of this ribbon.”

The woman nodded. “I was thinking zat you might. It looks très belle on you, I must say.”

“Oh—thank you.” The princess reached up to brush her fingers over the silky fabric before her hand dropped back to her lap. She took a deep breath. “I don’t know if you’ve realized this, but your friend...”

“Was your mère?” the madame interrupted. Jade glanced up at her in surprise and the woman smiled.

“You are le portrait craché—ze spitting image—of your mère, certainement. When I saw you for ze première time, I almost thought for a moment zat ma meilleure amie had come back to me.” Mme de Beauvoir shook her head. “But non—she returned to l’Arbre du Monde those many years ago. You ’ave my condoléances for your loss.”

“I was so young I barely even remember her,” Jade said quietly, looking away. “But thank you all the same.”

There was a moment of silence. Then the madame asked, in a gentle voice, “What was it zat you wished to speak about, mademoiselle?”

Jade’s fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt. “In that letter we found, she mentioned her betrothal to the Crown Prince of Heliodor—my father. She...she spoke of her duty to her country, and how she didn’t feel she could refuse him. I was never under any illusions that their marriage was not a political one first and foremost, but...”

But still she had thought—had _hoped_—that there had also been love there, a passion and tenderness that had been given room to flourish. That her own existence in this world had been a _result _of that love, rather than yet another obligation fulfilled by a woman who had turned her back on happiness in order to serve her kingdom.

_“Daddy, what’s in here?” the little princess piped up, already reaching for the ornate box with chubby fingers._

_“Have a care, Jade!” Her father’s face was stern as he looked down at her and she pulled back, chastened. _

_Once assured of her obedience, he lifted out the box himself and set it down on the dressing table. With a click of the lock, it popped open and Jade’s eyes lit up. Inside, nestled on a velvet cushion, was a dazzling, jewel-encrusted tiara._

_“Oh, it’s _beautiful_, daddy!” she gasped. “Was it mama’s?”_

_“Indeed it was, my dear,” her father confirmed. “And so will it be yours too, on the day you take the throne.”_

_“But I don’t want to wait that long,” Jade pouted. “Can’t I have it earlier, daddy? Please?”_

_Her father chuckled as he closed up the box again and set it back on the shelf. “Then perhaps for your wedding day instead, dearest.”_

_The princess’s lower lip jutted out even _more_, if possible. Boys were a foreign species to her at that age, and she still wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with them. “My wedding day? But what if I don’t _want_ to get married?”_

_“You will, Jade,” was her father’s reply. “For the sake of Heliodor and its people, you will.”_

_Her childish mind did not yet understand the meaning of this, but she _definitely_ understood the firmness of his voice and expression. ‘For the sake of Heliodor_’_—words that would come to limit her just as much as they would fulfill her._

It didn’t always have to be a choice between happiness and duty, did it? Was that really what it meant to leave childhood and its fairytales behind?

Mme de Beauvoir sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I can see how zat would give you pause. Vérité, it is one of ze reasons we argued that night before she left. ‘’Ow could you choisir a life zat you do not even want?’ I asked her. ‘Why would you not rester here with _me?_’”

The woman turned to glance out the window at the gardens and then looked back to Jade. “But zere was something she said zen zat I did not compris for many years,” she continued. “Non, zat I did not compris until I saw _you_ ’ere, as if ma meilleure amie ’ad walked out of mes souvenirs—my memories.”

“What was it?” Jade asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Zat maybe ’appiness has chapitres in our lives, and not all of zem are meant to continue forever. Zat it does not mean we did not enjoy zem—zat zey were not importante to us—but zat we need to move on to find our meilleurs ’appiness in ze future.” Her eyes were serious as she gazed at the princess, with just a hint of sadness. “I think, for mon amie, zat _you_ were zat ’appiness she knew was ahead of ’er, and she did not regretté ’er choice for a moment.”

The madame paused and plucked a handkerchief from her desk drawer. “’Ere, mademoiselle.”

“Thanks,” Jade told her, accepting it and dabbing at her eyes.

Mme de Beauvoir cleared her throat. “Now,” she said more loudly, “zat cannot be ze _only_ raison you came, can it? Do you not wish to ’ear what a malicieux fille your mère was? Oh, ze pranks she pulled me into! I can _still _see ze scowls of ze old directrice in my rêves at night.”

The princess huffed a shaky laugh and smiled at the woman. “I’d actually like that very much!”

* * *

She thought she might see him again, somewhere along their journeys. He was, truthfully, a rather unmistakable personage; but still she closely scrutinized every black horse, took another look at every head of purple hair, whipped around at every clank of chainmail or plate. (This last she quickly fell out of the habit of when Lady Eleanor’s son decided to forge a suit of Drasilian mail, looking so like his father in it that her heart ached for a very different reason.)

There was nothing. Not even a sign of Jasper, about whom she’d been told such stories by her friends that she could scarcely believe he was the same man she’d once known: noble and teasing and always pushing her to challenge herself.

Her father almost seemed to have lost interest in chasing down the fugitive Darkspawn. With how difficult their quest had proven already, she tried to tell herself she was grateful for that.

She wasn’t.

* * *

After weeks of surreptitious glances and guileful attempts at discovery, Jade could stand her curiosity no longer.

“What are you reading, Serena?” she asked the priestess as she joined her by the campfire one night. The young woman started and looked up from her book, a rather worn tome with many scuffs and dog-eared pages within it.

“It’s nothing very important,” Serena smiled. “Just an old storybook I brought along with me from Arboria.”

Jade stretched out her hands to the fire and felt its warm tickle on her fingertips. The southern part of the Champs Sauvage was a lot warmer than the north, but the flickering light was comforting all the same. She pulled away again and leaned back on her elbows.

“Is it a favourite of yours?” she said.

“Oh, yes!” The priestess’s eyes seemed to light up as she spoke. “I can’t tell you how many times I must have read it as a child. I’ve always loved books, you see, and when it came time to pack for our trip to find the Luminary, I couldn’t bear to leave without bringing one or two along with me.”

“_I’ll_ say,” a voice interrupted them. “You should have seen how hard it was to talk her down from bringing half the _library_ along with her.”

Veronica emerged from the darkness and flopped down on the other side of her sister. Her cap was askew on her head and one of her plaits had half fallen apart. She wore an expression just the slightest bit grumpier than the usual one Jade had come to know so well.

“Where are the others?” she asked. “I thought they needed your magic to help break apart the ore.”

The sorceress rolled her eyes. “_They’re_ still arguing about where exactly they found that second platinum deposit last time. I finally told them they were being absolutely ridiculous and that _I _was going to wait somewhere warm and dry, thank you very much.”

One small hand gestured to the book in her twin’s lap. “But anyway, you’re just lucky her copy of ‘A Ripple on the Sea of Love’ finally fell apart. She would have started a book club and forced you all to read it just so she’d have someone to gush about the _mushy_ parts with.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with sharing the things we love with our friends,” Serena sniffed. Then she let out a sigh. “I do hope I can track down another one someday, though. My bookshelf just won’t be the same without it.”

“‘A Ripple on the Sea of Love’, eh? What was it about?” Jade asked, interest piqued. She’d never been a big reader herself, but perhaps it might be the time to start. Goodness knew they had many more nights on the road ahead of them, and the idea of talking about books together in front of cozy campfires held a certain appeal.

The priestess hesitated. “Well...it’s actually about a mermaid and her human sweetheart,” she said quietly. “A real tear-jerker. Maybe...not the best choice for us all to read, now that I think about it.”

Veronica scoffed. “Yeah, unless you want everyone blubbering into their bowls of stew at night. Honestly, Serena!”

“Oh,” was all Jade could manage to say to that.

“But,” Serena continued eagerly, “I could always lend you _this_ one, if you’d like! It’s probably much more to your tastes, anyway—there are dragons and magic and duels, and a knight who rescues a princess from a wicked enchantment!”

“My sister here used to dream of dashing knights somehow stumbling into Arboria and falling _madly _in love with her,” Veronica added with a smirk. “As if anyone other than boring old merchants ever bothered coming all the way up the mountain!”

A flush blossomed on Serena’s face and she shut the book with a snap. “Veronica, please!”

Jade smiled at her, hoping to put the younger woman at ease. “You aren’t the only one, Serena,” she said reassuringly. “I remember once thinking I was being wooed by a noble knight, only to turn around and realize it was a well-spoken walking corpse. Rab demanded to know why I’d let it get so close to me afterwards, but I couldn’t bear to tell him.”

“At least you’d ever _seen_ a knight in your life, Jade.” Finally fed up with her failing plait, Veronica had pulled it apart and was busily re-braiding it. “Growing up in a castle with handsome, gallant men everywhere—and you an _actual_ princess too! Who could blame you for thinking one might have fallen for you at first sight?”

_“You are magnificent.”_

_And she _felt_ magnificent, didn’t she, his eyes filled with awe and desire and a tenderness that she never expected, that she did not yet know would haunt her for nights and nights on end._

“I suppose you’ve got a point there,” Jade murmured, swallowing around the lump in her throat as she gazed off into the darkness.

Serena let out a tiny cough and held up the book. “Well regardless of all that, you’re welcome to borrow this anytime you’d like, Jade. I really do think you’d enjoy it!”

The princess looked at it for a long moment before nodding her head. “Thanks, Serena. I’ll have to take you up on that sometime.”

She wouldn’t, of course—but the earnest young priestess didn’t need to know that. No one did.

* * *

Their travels eventually took them to Sniflheim, as she’d always known they would. It was the rumoured location of the fabled Blue Orb and the only way to get to Arboria besides. She’d had ample time to prepare for it and felt confident that the frozen kingdom could throw nothing at her that she could not handle.

If anyone noticed the long moment she took to steel herself before stepping off onto the pier, they thankfully chose not to remark upon it.

* * *

Jade was lucky, in a way, that the next time she found herself in the cabin—so unexpectedly, without opportunity to dread _or_ anticipate—was amidst a flurry of frantic bustle.

“In here! Get him over to the bed!” Veronica shouted to Sylvando and Erik as they strained to carry their charge up the wooden steps. Rab followed closely, his concern for his grandson written on every line of his weathered face. Serena brought up the rear and was about to go through the doorway when she turned.

“Jade?” she called. “Is something the matter? Please hurry!”

“Right!” the princess said with a shake of her head, breath puffing into the chill air. She dashed up the steps two at a time to the hut and shut the door firmly behind herself as she entered.

It was more or less how she remembered it: large fireplace at one end, small stove at the other, table and chairs, a single bed against the wall. Someone in the intervening months had evidently grown tired of going outside for firewood, as enormous stacks of it now lay in every spare corner.

The _other_ significant change was the presence of seven people crammed into the small room, most of them vying to be as helpful as they could possibly be and failing spectacularly in the attempt.

Finally, Veronica got fed up with the chaos and started throwing around orders. “Erik—get a fire started in the fireplace! Sylvando—you do the same for the stove! Rab—find something for him to wear so we can take these wet clothes off! Serena—”

“I know where there’s some spare clothing,” Jade cut in. “Let me do that while Rab checks the food stores.”

The sorceress nodded at her and then turned back to the bed, her sister by her side as they worriedly examined their unconscious patient.

Jade dodged past a scrambling Erik to kneel down in front of one of the bins. A cursory look showed it to mostly be undisturbed from her last visit and she sifted through the pile to find a suitable tunic. Her fingers paused on one of them, the colour and size of it seeming very familiar. Given the looseness of its fit on _her_, it would probably work quite well for him.

_His eyes were locked onto her bare shoulder as she turned, his breath shallow in his chest. She could have pulled the shirt back up, but chose not to. She didn’t know why._

_(She did know why.)_

Jade shook her head and pushed the tunic aside, digging deeper into the bin to find another one instead.

After a half-hour of diligent work, all finally seemed in order. Their companion slept on, but a healthy flush had finally returned to his cheeks. The rest of the party scattered themselves around the hut, the light outside the shuttered windows slowly dying as they waited.

“Do you think we should put a guard outside?” Erik asked suddenly. His voice was a curious mixture of hushed and resonant, as if torn between wanting his friend to rest and wishing to see him awake again as soon as possible.

“What d’ye mean, lad?” Rab asked from his place at the table. He sniffed dubiously at a string of dried meat and Jade gave it under thirty seconds before he threw caution to the wind and ate it anyway.

Erik gestured into the air. “I mean, that Hendrik guy’s still out there somewhere, right? If he found us here, we could all be on our way to the Heliodor dungeons soon.”

“I’d just like to see him try it!” Veronica scowled, cracking her knuckles ominously.

Serena smoothed out the blanket underneath her perch on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know,” she said with a small frown. “He could have stayed and fought us after the witch flew off, couldn’t he have? There _must _be a reason he left.”

“It’d have to be a good one,” Sylvando replied quietly. “Once Hendrik’s got the bit in his teeth, he doesn’t _ever_ let go, honey.”

Jade glanced over to see the man staring pensively into the fire, his long legs spread out before him. She was reminded then that she wasn’t the _only_ one who had grown skilled at keeping secrets—far more skilled than any of them ought to be.

“He won’t come back,” she told them. Her chin rested on her hand as she looked out through a crack in the shutters, the snowfield glittering with the setting sun. “Whatever else is going on, he won’t come back.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Veronica said skeptically. “I suppose you _have_ known him the longest of any of us.”

Yes, she certainly had: eight years that everyone knew about, and one night they never would. Jade let out a long sigh and blinked several times, futilely trying to banish the memories of earlier that day from her mind. She had watched with held breath as his tall form had bent over to retrieve his broken pendant from the snow before rising again. His gaze had met hers for a single instant before he’d turned away.

Had there been anger, sorrow, or indifference there? Did she know which she even preferred?

There was a knock at the door and all of them, save one, jerked upwards and instinctively reached for their weapons.

“Hello?” came a voice from outside the hut. “Hello in the cabin! I am a scholar from Sniflheim and I wish most urgently to speak with you!”

A pause for a moment. Then Rab pushed back his chair with a loud scrape on the wooden floor.

“Well,” he said gruffly, “I suppose we ought to let the fellow in, eh?”

* * *

Jade had never allowed herself to dream much over the years; but when she did, it was always of the life that had been stolen from her.

_What would the Academy have been like to attend? Would she have made friends there? Would she have spent her summers in Dundrasil, teaching and playing with Lady Eleanor and King Irwin’s children? Would she and her father have sneaked down to the castle kitchens together and stolen sweets? How many beautiful gowns would she have owned, one for every ball and banquet and special occasion? Would the young men have fallen all over themselves at the sight of her? Would Jasper and Hendrik have appointed themselves her unofficial guardians and scared away every potential suitor even as she pouted and complained? _

So many longings and questions over sixteen years, wondering what that other version of _her_ might have been like. Spoiled, probably, and a little full of herself. Certainly much less competent a fighter, though she still might have learned something of the martial arts from Rab and his grandson after he came back from Angri-La. Hopefully kind and compassionate, thanks to Lady Eleanor’s gentle influence, and filled with an earnest desire to perform her duties as crown princess.

Jade had tried not to dwell on these thoughts, knowing no good could come of them. But it had been hard at times, living out deception after deception, never knowing what name or role she would assume next. It sometimes seemed she might spend her whole _life_ trying to get back to who she really was, so she’d clung to the idea of it fiercely, not wanting to lose sight of her goals.

After that night in the cabin, however, she more often found herself dreaming of who she _wasn’t_.

_What would she have done if she really _had _been Martina? Would she have gone back with him that next day? Or perhaps later, when the lovely azures and emeralds of high summer came to Heliodor. She would present herself at the castle and wait for him, admiring the opulence of the Banquet Hall, and then look up to see him coming towards her. A surprised flush would be on his face but a smile of pleasure too, and he would be so charmingly tongue-tied as to be nearly unintelligible._

_What might he have shown her of his home if it had been his and his alone? Perhaps the secret spot in the gardens where he’d always hidden with a book in his hands. The stables, his voice filled with pride as he waxed on about the accomplishments of his horse. He might even have introduced her to a mischievous Jasper, who would greet her with an exaggerated gallantry expressly calculated to drive his friend to distraction._

_And then, of course, he would make certain a guest room was made ready for her with every amenity her heart might desire. But she wouldn’t make use of it, would she? No, he would find her at his door that night and the rest of it would be spent in _his_ bed, renewing their acquaintance in as many ways as they could manage. And the next morning, he would awaken to see her curled into him, mumbling a sleepy greeting as she stroked her hands through his hair._

A dream, just as impossible as the other. But oh, oh how she wished it could be real.

* * *

“And just where d’ye think _ye’re_ going, lass?”

Jade instinctively clutched her fur cape more tightly around herself as she whirled toward the voice. The lobby of the Sniflheim inn was dark and cool, but she could just make out a portly figure sitting on one of the stools near the door.

Rab heaved himself off it and dusted at his trousers before walking over to her. He looked a bit red-faced from the chilly night air—and a generous amount of ale, no doubt—but his eyes were clear and penetrating.

“Already finished with your tavern amusements?” Jade asked lightly. “It’s not even eleven o’clock yet. You _must _be getting old, Rab.”

“Certainly aulder than a lassie who pled exhaustion amidst the celebrations and told us she had a mind of retiring early.” The man’s gaze took in her bundled-up appearance and the claws strapped to her waist, his unanswered question still hanging in the air.

She considered for a moment the idea of fabricating an excuse, but that hadn’t worked on him since she was sixteen years old (and she honestly suspected he’d been humouring her well _before _then, too).

_“Jade, lass! If I’ve told ye once, I’ve told ye a thousand times—_never _dig into my red pack! It contains, er, very important scholarly materials for our quest! Nothing for the likes of _ye _to be looking at.”_

_“I _didn’t _look! I don’t even care what’s in there!”_

_But she had and she did, and she wished there were someone other than a kindly old man who didn’t understand her to explain what it all meant. Most of it she figured out on her own through the years; some of it only came through experience._

“There’s something I need to do,” she said instead. “I’ll...probably be gone for most of the night.”

Rab’s eyes were narrowed as he looked at her. “I see. And that wouldnae have aught to do with a certain Heliodorian expedition that’s rumoured to be leaving tomorrow, now would it?”

Jade met his gaze unblinkingly but stayed silent, not willing to confirm or deny anything to a man who’d always seemed to see right through her.

His mustache drooped and he absently scratched at the back of his neck. “I know well enough that I cannae change yer mind once ye’ve made it,” he sighed. “I just...dinnae want ye to get hurt, is all.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she told him with a small smile. “I think I can handle a few lamplings or sabrecubs on my own.”

“That’s not what I was speaking of, lass.”

“I know it wasn’t.”

Another pause, and then she gave him a short nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rab.”

“Very well,” he replied with another sigh as he waved her toward the door. “Take care, Jade.”

The snow seemed almost to glow around her as she slipped through the Sniflheim Region on silent feet. She stole glances upward every now and then, marvelling at the clarity of the stars in this northern realm; Erdwin’s Lantern shone its crimson light far above and Yggdrasil glowed steadily onwards in the east. Those monsters still awake were easy enough to avoid on her solitary journey and she found herself making good time as she went.

Jade’s vigilance, though never dulled on the road, increased upon entering the chilly Snærfelt. They’d fought several of the fearsome metal monsters on their way to the Royal Library and she knew she’d be hard pressed to battle one on her own. Luckily, the visibility of the snowfields was excellent that night—a far cry from the blustery storms she knew could sometimes ravage it.

(Yes, she certainly _did_ know.)

Her luck ran out only a few hundred metres from where she knew the cabin to be, hidden from view by an outcropping of boulders. Half a dozen Shadows formed from blackness before her eyes and she immediately crouched into a fighting stance with her claws at the ready. They weren’t the most dangerous enemies in and of themselves, but she was keenly aware of her lack of support in the battle; her speed would be her greatest asset in dispatching them before they could attack.

To that end, Jade let out a cry and leapt on the nearest one, her Hard Claw slicing into its amorphous body. She didn’t wait to confirm its shrieking disintegration before she was charging at the next, then the one after. Her breath panted foggy crystals into the air around her as she whirled and slashed at her foes.

A burst of frigid air hit her from behind and she staggered back, spinning to face her attacker. There came another blast from the side and she felt the burn of ice tearing into her skin. She gritted her teeth and unleashed a Hawkeye Claw on the Shadow in front of her, knowing she could not risk its evasion if she were to have any chance at all. Its inky figure rippled with the blow but remained intact, and she could see it start to charge up for another gust of magical cold.

There was a flash of light, blinding as it reflected upon the snow around her, and then the warmth of a healing spell soothed her frostbitten skin. She did not pause to look at its source but jumped onto the Shadow again and destroyed it with another fierce slash. The one beside it fell to her next Hard Claw, and she spun in time to see the blade of a greatsword plunging through the last before it dispersed into the air. After a final shriek of agony, the snowfield fell silent.

Jade took a moment to draw in a deep breath before she turned to the figure standing several feet away.

Hendrik’s own chest heaved from the exertion of battle, his cloak swept back to give him freedom to maneuver. Instead of his armour, he wore plain trousers and a dark gambeson. His boots sank into the snow and his gloved hands held his sword in a tight grip. This last she eyed warily before finally raising her gaze to his.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Then he spoke, his voice sounding unnaturally crisp in the air.

“You have grown stronger since last we met.” It wasn’t meant as an insult, and she didn’t take it as one.

“I’ve had a lot of reasons to,” she replied, watching him carefully for any telltale tension that would presage an attack.

After another pause, he straightened and sheathed his sword upon his back. He drew the cloak around himself and turned away from her.

“Come,” he said over his shoulder. “The night air is chilly and I have started a fire in the cabin.” Then he strode off into the snow without waiting for her reaction.

Jade blinked in surprise and hesitated, unsure what to make of his demeanour. She watched him walk away for several heartbeats before reaching a decision. Her footsteps crunched into the ground, numb fingers fumbling at the straps of her claws as she followed him.

The rush of air from the doorway was blessedly warm on her skin as she entered the cabin for the second time in two days. Hendrik was ahead of her, already pulling off his cloak and gloves and setting his greatsword in one corner of the room. A merry fire crackled in the fireplace and on the table was a plate of half-eaten meats and hardtack.

“I was in the midst of a meal when I heard the sounds of your confrontation,” he said when he noticed her looking at it. “You are welcome to partake, if you wish.”

She shook her head silently, still standing just inside the doorway wearing her heavy fur cape. Hendrik gestured toward the hooks on the wall and she slowly began to remove both it and her claws at her belt, not able to take her eyes off him even as he sat down in one of the chairs before the fire. She joined him afterwards, settling a cautious distance away in her own chair as she did.

“Where are your men?” Jade asked without preamble. A shiver went through her as she felt the heat of the fire on her face and she instinctively reached her gloved hands out to it.

“At a campsite outside of Sniflheim,” he replied. He was looking steadily into the fire, his face a mystery. “With the threat now eliminated, we sail for Heliodor on the morning tide.”

Hendrik turned his head slightly to her. “You are to be commended on your deliverance of the city from the witch’s foul curse. It seems yet another kingdom owes a debt of gratitude to the Darkspawn and his companions.”

His tone was far more tired than bitter, but her back stiffened all the same. Perhaps it would have been better to ease into this—perhaps many, many things would have been better than to be sitting here with him now—but what was the point in delaying the inevitable? Should they have talked about the weather for a few minutes first?

“Hendrik, you have to know by now that something is wrong,” she said forcefully. “He isn’t who you think he is. We’re trying to _save_ Erdrea, not destroy it!”

“Forgive me if I do not blindly take a creature of darkness at his word,” was his retort.

Jade scoffed. “Ironic, coming from a man who follows along with whatever madness my father has been possessed by.”

“I do only as my king commands me,” he declared, his eyes flashing as they met hers. “As I always have—and always will! You cannot ask anything more of me than that!”

Her hands clenched into fists on her skirt and she willed her racing heart to calm. “I’m not _asking_ anything of you, Hendrik. Merely warning you that we won’t let anyone stand in our way—not even you.”

He snorted and looked away again. “I have well been made aware of _that _already, Princess.”

It was the first time he’d used her title that night and it introduced something new into the room, something she didn’t think either of them had intended—or wanted. The truth of it hung heavily in the air around them, squeezing in on her throat and chest so tightly it almost hurt to breathe.

After a long moment, Hendrik sighed. “Why came you here tonight?” he said in an achingly quiet voice.

“I could ask the same of you.” Because it was always so much easier to toss it back to him, wasn’t it? Easier by far than to face her _own_ reasons for the things she chose to do, to say, to _feel_.

“I...do not know.” His chin rested on his propped up hand as he stared into the fire. “I thought perhaps that being here again would help me to...to put to rest my doubts and uncertainties, but instead I find myself more conflicted than ever...”

“Hendrik,” she breathed, not wanting even to blink for fear of shattering the moment.

His hand dropped to his side and he turned toward her, a look of desperation on his face. “Come back with me on the morrow,” he implored, heart in his eyes. “Please, I beg of you to come back with me, to Heliodor. It is your rightful place, and all else...all else can be determined in time.”

“Don’t try to—you can’t ask that of me either!” Jade said sharply. She was certainly frustrated by his refusal to understand her position, but the anger helped to fend off the anguish, too—at least a little bit. “My rightful place is _here_ with my friends. I’ll never abandon them, not for anything!”

“Then what am I to do?” Hendrik burst out. The chair teetered behind him as he leapt up and stalked over to the other side of the room. “If you will give me _nothing_, then what purpose does any of this serve you? Why do you persist in tormenting me so? Why did you come here again?”

His eyes locked onto hers and she saw him swallow hard. “Why...why did you lie with me that night?”

Jade found herself rising from her own chair. “I...told you in Dundrasil that I didn’t know,” she said slowly, taking one tentative step forward. “That wasn’t the truth.”

He seemed frozen in place as he watched her approach, his lips parted with his harsh breathing. “Then...”

“It was because...” She shook her head and let out a short laugh. “It was because I wanted to. Because you were here and you wanted _me_, and it was so easy to just...want you back. To forget who I was—forget what I was _supposed _to do—and take something that I wanted, before the sun rose again and everything went back to the way it had to be.”

She stopped in front of him, close enough to touch. “It was because I wanted you, Hendrik,” she whispered. “I still do.”

He sucked in a sharp breath as she laid her hand on his chest and slowly slid it upwards, curling around the back of his neck.

“Another trick, Princess?” he asked, the accusation losing most of its bite with the helpless hunger in his eyes.

“No trick,” she replied. “Not this time.”

Jade gently tugged him down and pressed up on her tiptoes to bring their mouths within an inch of each other.

“Should I kiss you now, Hendrik?” she murmured. Her pulse was thudding so loudly in her ears that it drowned out all but the sound of their panting breaths, puffing against each other’s lips.

“No,” he said hoarsely, and her heart stopped in her chest.

She jerked back as if slapped, hand dropping from his neck and her eyes widening as she stared at him. He looked down at her with an expression of such hopelessness on his face that her stomach twisted painfully.

“Oh,” she gasped out. “I...I’m sorry, I need to...”

With a shake of her head, she turned away and searched the room with a frantic gaze for her equipment. It was suddenly an imperative to leave—leave before the burning at the edges of her eyes had a chance to make good on its promise, leave before the lump that rose in her throat was given voice. She strode over to the wall and grabbed her claws and cape, not even bothering to pull them on before she was at the door, wrenching it open.

There was a flurry of movement behind her and then the door slammed shut again. Startled, she looked up to see Hendrik’s firm hand upon it, pressing it closed. His eyes met hers and he took in a deep breath.

“You speak of ‘should’, Princess, as if there is any sense in our actions here—any deference at all to the loyalties that divide us.”

His other hand came up to cradle her face and her eyelids fluttered at the first feel of his touch after so many long months.

“No, you _should_ not kiss me,” he continued in a husky voice, his thumb stroking her cheek. “But by the heavens, I wish that you _would_.”

Jade wasn’t sure if she pushed up or he leaned down, or if they both moved seamlessly, as in sync with this as they had been in any battlefield encounter. But she supposed it didn’t matter—not when the result was the coming together of eager lips, of arms grasping tightly, of fingers tangling into hair.

He moaned into her mouth as they traded desperate kisses and the sound sent a shock of desire rushing through her. It was like she could only truly _feel_ the parts of her that connected with him, one of his hands around her waist and the other digging into the hair below her ponytail. She grazed his bottom lip with her teeth and was rewarded with a tightening of his hold as he gasped throatily.

It was only a few feet to the bed but it seemed a thousand miles away as they stumbled over there together, neither of them willing to be the first to let go. He urged her forward and Jade dropped to the mattress, perched on the edge of it while he knelt on the floor before her. They paused for a moment and stared at each other through hooded eyes; his hands curled around her hips with a careful grip and her arms rested about his shoulders.

If either of them still possessed that sense he spoke of, this would be the time to stop. She could go back to being Princess Jade, protector of the Luminary, and he Sir Hendrik of Heliodor, king’s sworn knight. In another lifetime—another _now_—there would stand nothing at all between them; she would have grown up safe and cherished, with him always at her side. Would they still have come together like this? Or did having one mean forever giving up claim to the other?

Which would she choose if she could?

Hendrik’s chest filled with a long breath and then his fingers went to the laces of her boot, gently tugging them undone. She slipped her hands from his neck and fumbled first at the belt of her skirt and then up to her leather halter. She’d just turned to the buckle at the top when she felt the brush of his lips at her knee and stuttered to a halt. Her eyes drifted closed as he pressed slow kisses up her bare thigh, pulling off her boot as he went.

Her hips squirmed when he stopped within inches of her core, still maddenly clothed by her shorts, before he switched to her other leg and kissed his way down to the boot there. This one he practically tore off with a grunt of impatience and she then hooked her legs around his shoulders, gasping as he nuzzled and mouthed at her inner thighs.

It wasn’t good enough—it wasn’t _close_ enough. She needed to feel his skin against hers, needed it more than she needed the air she struggled to draw in. Jade moved one foot to his chest and pushed him away. He settled back on his heels and watched through heavy lids as she leaned forward and began working at the clasps of his gambeson. Her nimble fingers made quick work of it and then moved to the tunic underneath. He helped her tug it over his head until he was bare-chested before her, shining pendant reflecting the flickering firelight.

She hummed with approval as her eager hands went back to his neck and she pulled him into a hungry kiss. He groaned as she deepened it and their tongues stroked together. Her fingers slid over his pendant chain, shivering at the coolness of it compared to his skin’s searing heat—

Jade’s fingertips stilled as they slid from metal to something significantly softer. She jerked back so suddenly that he made a noise of protest and tried to follow, clearly unhappy at the thought of giving up her mouth. But then he seemed to realize what she’d found and froze.

The two halves of the broken chain, joined together again by a simple piece of leather string. Her heart hammered in her chest as she brushed over the knot with trembling fingers.

“Princess,” Hendrik said hesitantly, wide eyes darting up to hers.

“Please...” She swallowed hard and blinked away the blurriness in her vision. “Please call me by my name.” There was nothing she needed more on this precious, stolen night than to hear it from his lips—in gasps, in moans, in a broken voice as he spent himself.

He searched her face for a long moment before nodding. “Jade,” he murmured, and it was nearly her undoing.

Hendrik pulled her off the edge of the mattress and into his lap, nuzzling at her hair and pressing featherlight kisses to her face. He breathed her name between each one, like whispered prayers against her flushed skin. Her fingers scraped against his scalp and she struggled to catch her breath.

“Did you think of me?” she could not help but gasp out as he trailed his way down her jaw. “Did you think of me, even after Dundrasil?”

“Yes,” he groaned against her neck, and she could hear the strain in his voice. “Even knowing what I did then, my desire for you could not be quenched.”

It must have been so easy for him before that, an uncomplicated fantasy with none of the guilt and shame she’d lived with for months. She may have had the advantage of knowledge, but it had come with an aching price. Still she couldn’t regret this—she would _never_ regret it—but she did wish she’d been kinder to him; he deserved that much from her.

“Hendrik,” she whimpered when his hands pushed up her shirt and halter to cup her breasts, caressing and teasing.

“Hendrik,” she moaned again when he pressed her upper body to the mattress and kissed his way down her chest before capturing a nipple between his lips.

“Hendrik,” she gasped out when he yanked off her shorts and settled himself between her legs. He paused a moment, breath panting hotly on her throbbing sex, before his tongue was upon her and she was lost to delirious pleasure.

Jade cried his name again and again as he stroked her, his firm fingers digging into her thighs to hold her still. She’d tried not to, the last time, had wanted to avoid triggering any flicker of recognition in him at the worst possible moment. But now she tossed away every inhibition and gave herself over to wanton desire as his mouth tore his name from her own. It was all she _could _say when her climax crashed over her, astonishingly quickly, and the waves of bliss threatened to sweep her away.

It was a little while before she came back to herself, her heart pounding in her ears and her chest heaving with struggled breaths. She opened her eyes to see him looking up at her; his gaze was dark and wanting as he caressed her thighs with a soothing gesture.

“You’ve gotten very good at that,” she finally managed with a huff of disbelief. “Are you sure you haven’t been practicing without me?”

She immediately regretted it when he jerked back, his face stricken, and she hastily pushed herself up into a sitting position. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, hand going to his cheek. “It was a poor attempt at a joke.”

Hendrik’s eyes fluttered closed at the feel of her touch and he let out a long breath. “I have dreamed so often of doing that to you, never knowing if I...would ever get another chance...”

The unspoken thought settled heavily in the air between them; the future that lay in such doubt. Then Jade shook her head, refusing to allow it room in the cabin this night. She may have the rest of her life to struggle with something so close to—but not quite—regret, and she’d be damned if she’d let it spoil what little time they had.

His eyes snapped back open and widened to an almost impossible degree when her hand moved to trail down his bare chest.

“I seem to find myself in your debt rather too often, Sir Hendrik,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t you think it’s time to settle accounts?”

“You must not feel—that is, it is unnecessary to—” He groaned into her mouth when she kissed him, that unfamiliar strangeness of her own taste again on his tongue.

Jade pulled away and looked into his hooded eyes. “Always with the objections,” she sighed, climbing back into his lap and straddling him. “You need to understand that I want to give _you_ pleasure just as much as you do _me_.”

“That...that cannot _possibly_ be true...” he gasped, hands reflexively squeezing her waist as she began to press lingering kisses to his neck. She rocked her hips forward to push up against the bulge in his trousers and he let out a throaty moan.

“Let’s get the mattress before the fire,” she whispered in his ear. “I fear you’d break the bed.”

They untangled themselves from each other—with a vast reluctance on _both_ their parts, Jade suspected—and she pulled off the remainder of her clothing and moved the chairs out of the way. Hendrik tripped and stubbed his toe on the bed frame in his haste to strip off the mattress, cursing under his breath, and she couldn’t help her smile. It was such an ordinary, mundane occurrence, as if this were just another night of many they might spend together; she pushed the thought away before it could overwhelm her.

His uncertainty had turned to breathless anticipation by the time they laid down on the mattress, the cozy heat from the fire dancing across her skin. The shivering way he looked at her was a lot like how he had those long months ago, but oh how different it was to hear _her _name from his lips, his voice hushed with awe.

“Jade,” he moaned, his back arching when her hand brushed over his clothed erection. Her fingers went to his laces and she made short work of them, tugging down both trousers and boxers with his eager help.

Unlike a prized catch that only looms larger in the mind over time, she suddenly realized how much she’d _under_estimated his size in her memories. She lightly brushed her fingers along his length with a wondering interest, thrilling at the way his fists clenched and his breath hissed in sharply.

Jade was about to duck her head down, intent on returning the favour he had so enthusiastically paid to her, when she stopped.

“Hendrik,” she said quietly, watching as his gaze flew from her hand up to her own. “What do you want from me?”

He seemed staggered by the question; his mouth opened and closed as he stared at her through heavily lidded eyes. Did he know how far she was willing—_wishing_—to go? Did he understand what she had long ago resolved to share with him and him alone, even if that meant forever forgoing her chance at it?

“I want...” Hendrik struggled to swallow several times. “I want...only what will leave us with no regrets on the morrow.”

That pained helplessness was again on his face, knotting her chest tightly. “I could not bear to carry such a burden with me,” he said in a whisper. “Truly, I could not.”

Her eyes stung at the edges as she moved back up his body. His arms went around her and clutched her tightly to him, meeting her lips with equal desperation. Her fingers brushed over the leather tie on his pendant chain and she marvelled at how easily two broken ends could be made whole again; not the same as before—perhaps never the same again—but bound together nonetheless.

Hendrik broke the kiss with a strangled groan when she reached down to grasp his length. She shifted on top of him, her legs on either side as she straddled his hips and pressed down—not overtop, but along, sliding his hardness against the slick folds of her sex. The position was a bit awkward and he was forced up onto his forearms when she pulled his mouth back to hers, his abdominal muscles distractingly clenched, but she guessed from his panting moans that he didn’t really mind.

_She_ certainly didn’t mind either when she found just the right angle to hit a spot that sent sparks flying through her body. The kiss turned gasping as they rocked together in front of the fire; his fingers dug into the straw mattress and her free hand clutched at his shoulders, breasts brushing against his chest with every thrust of his hips.

The exquisite pleasure built up inside her until it crested once more, taking her by surprise with its intensity. She cried out his name and heard her own wrenched from his lips seconds later, urgent and broken. Something spilled across her hand and stomach as their movements slowed and then finally stopped.

Jade almost collapsed onto him afterwards, unable to support her own weight. Luckily he had enough left in him to wrap a protective arm around her and slowly settle them both back down to the mattress, her head resting on his heaving chest. She tried to move her hand alongside it but met a stickiness on his abdomen instead. A frown came across her face as she examined her wet fingers.

There was a short huff from above. “If you will give me but a moment to catch my breath, I will procure a cleaning cloth,” he said in a weary voice.

“The _other_ way was certainly less messy—though I can’t much recommend the taste,” she replied. A sudden instinct had her looking up in time to catch the flush blooming across his neck. She smiled slightly and let her head drop again, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of his heartbeat beneath her.

There was so much they could have said right then, but neither of them seemed to know how—or _where_—to start. After a few minutes, Hendrik gently brought them up into a sitting position and left the mattress to rummage around in one of the bins. He brought back several scraps of fabric and together they cleaned up most of the mess before discarding the cloth in an empty crate.

With his help, Jade grabbed the pile of blankets from the bed and they nestled back down before the fire, legs tangling together as they lay there side by side. His face was serious as he gazed at her.

“You are more beautiful than words can possibly describe,” he told her quietly, his fingers reaching out to brush her bangs back from her eyes.

She caught his hand before he could pull away and pressed it up against her cheek. “I don’t know,” she murmured into his palm. “I actually quite like those ones.”

His eyes grew impossibly soft as she began to brush her lips across his fingertips, one by one. The dying firelight flickered across his face, and she knew that she would always remember how he looked in this moment.

“My...my ship leaves for Heliodor in the morning,” he said then, voice gone noticeably hoarser.

Jade tensed as she waited for the question she wished desperately not to be asked. It wasn’t that she was tempted to say ‘yes’, but that she was afraid she no longer had the power to say ‘no’.

Hendrik’s gaze searched her own before he spoke again. “I will take no regrets with me, save one,” he whispered. “And you?”

She paused for a heartbeat before nodding slowly. “The same.”

He gathered her up in his arms after that and she felt his long, shuddering sigh leave his chest. She blinked away the burning at her eyes, willing herself not to spoil these last, precious moments they had together. The warmth of the fire on her back and his steady embrace surrounding her soon had her lids drooping, and she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Hendrik was gone when she awoke.

She’d been expecting that, really—but still her stomach clenched tightly to sit up and find his side of the mattress cold and his equipment missing, like a gnawing pit had opened up inside her that could never be properly closed again.

When she rose and began to retrieve her discarded clothing, she glanced at the table and stuttered to a halt.

His pendant lay upon it, the leather-mended chain carefully coiled underneath the medallion. Her trembling fingers lightly brushed over the emblem of the two-headed eagle as she reached for the note that lay next to it. ‘Jade’ was written on the front in a neat, cursive script. She took in a shaky breath before opening it and reading the short contents—once, then a thousand times more before she was finally ready to set it aside and continue her preparations.

The sun was beginning to rise over the mountains when Jade stepped outside the cabin, her claws on her belt and her fur cape pulled snugly around herself. She felt the uncomfortable coolness of metal on her chest, tucked safely beneath her tank top, but she didn’t mind; she knew it wouldn’t be long before it had warmed with her skin, almost as if lit by a fire within.

She pulled the door shut behind her and strode off into the brightening morning without another look back.

* * *

It was never that Jade didn’t _believe _in love.

She just hadn’t understood what love could do _for _a person: the heights it might inspire them to, the depths it could drown them in. She had seen love as a force of nature rather than a choice that had to be made, day after ceaseless day.

She hadn’t understood that some choices will always be worth making, even when the ending seems inevitable.

The next time she saw him turned out to be much sooner than she’d expected, and much more fraught with peril. They were all of them gathered at the heart of everything—even Jasper and her father, too—as treacheries were revealed and victory was cruelly snatched from their grasps.

Their eyes had time to meet only for an instant, but she remembered his words when they did, felt them echo through her very soul in that moment of truth:

_Return this to me on the day that you find your way home again._

_I will be waiting for you._

Just as the world went up in flames and everything she knew was torn away from her once more, Jade took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and _believed_.


End file.
